


Got a Feelin' There Are Good Times Ahead

by abelrunner



Series: This Never Happened Before [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, And I have plans, Barebacking, Bottom!Bucky, But I'm writing other things in this universe, F/M, Love Confessions, M/M, Natasha's not really in this, Other, Polyamory, She'll be in other stuff, top!steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:11:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1796761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abelrunner/pseuds/abelrunner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky decided this near-death experience was the one where he'd confess, so the Yay-We-Survived Sex is... a bit different this time around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got a Feelin' There Are Good Times Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> Technically it's Steve/Nat/Bucky, but Nat's part in this particular story is minimal, physically speaking. I tried to make it clear that, yeah, it's a polyamorous relationship. Steve and Bucky are just having special time right now. But I have plans for special time between all of them. This is just the one I wrote first.
> 
> Planning on this being a series, to be read in no particular order, about Steve/Nat/Bucky. Look forward to future installments featuring the Steve/Nat and Bucky/Nat parts of the triad, in addition to maybe some threesome sexy times and threesome pizza parties, etc. Most will be oneshots, some will be longer than others.

Bucky isn’t the type of person to give up easily. Not at all. He could be as stubborn as Steve, and knew he was smart enough to get out of tight corners. And when smarts didn’t quite manage the job, he was a Soviet-trained super assassin with a weapon of mass destruction for an arm. 

This though… this was getting ugly.

It was a routine raid into a HYDRA compound with Nat, Clint, Sam, a dozen SHIELD agents, and Steve. Generally, they caught HYDRA by surprise, but either they’d been clumsy or someone on the inside tipped them off. They were ready. Half the SHIELD agents were dead (good men and women; Bucky had worked on at least one mission with each one), Clint and Nat were pinned on the east quad, Sam was grounded and went radio silent shortly after, and Steve and Bucky were pinned in a bottleneck inside the science building. 

They’d requested some backup as calmly as possible and started rearranging the desks to provide cover for a last stand. The hall was silent for now, but they knew the HYDRA operatives would be there soon. They were outnumbered, out-gunned… Bucky had barely more than a handful of bullets left, and the hall was too narrow for Steve to use his shield properly, so he’d been forced to pick up a gun earlier on. He was a good shot in general, but it wasn’t a weapon he was familiar or comfortable with. Wasted shots would abound.

They sat behind an upended desk, breathing and listening for the sounds of footsteps. Bucky considered what was going to happen. He’d run out of bullets, they’d fight for as long as they could, but chances were good they’d go down. Would they kill them? No, no way. Bucky was a 70 year investment that had gotten away, Steve an Avenger with knowledge and strength and a powerful weapon flowing in his veins. There was no way…

So Bucky would go back to HYDRA, and everything he remembered would get erased, and he’d forget Natalia and he’d forget Steve, and every other good thing that had happened to him since he’d let Steve catch him outside of Moscow. 

And what would happen to Steve? Torture? Vivisection? A thousand different experiments until there was nothing left?

"Bucky, it’s gonna be fine." Steve said. Something about Bucky’s thoughts must have shown on his face. "We’re getting out of this. Been through worse."

"Really?" If Steve was telling truth, Bucky certainly didn’t remember it. "Like what?"

"Well…" Steve glanced away. "Can’t think of anything right now, but I’ll get back to you on it." Bucky snorted and glanced at the radio he’d thrown across the room in frustration. It was broken now, and if Natalia were here, she’d rip him a new one for breaking it. 

"Hellicarrier." Steve said suddenly. Bucky turned.

"What?"

"The Hellicarrier was way worse." Steve sounded triumphant. "So there. We’ll get out of this. Nat’s coming and Clint’s probably close behind. She wouldn’t miss killing a bunch of HYDRA agents for worlds." He nodded with absolute confidence.

Bucky stared at him. He wished Steve would take the helmet off, because he loved Steve’s hair right after he took his helmet off, with it was all feathery and flyaway. He wished he’d kissed Natalia before running off in the opposite direction. He wished he’d said a dozen things to the people he loved more than anything in the world, and as the sounds of footsteps began to echo through the halls down to them, and Steve tensed and gripped his gun, he said, “Steve, I love you.”

Steve turned to look at him. “What.”

"I love you." Bucky said again, a little louder this time, more sure. "I’ve loved you since I was twelve. I love you, and I love Nat, and I wish I’d said that before all this. I wish we'd had more time." 

Steve stared, then looked away down the hall as the footsteps got louder and orders echoed down to them. Then he turned back to Bucky, grabbed his head with one warm hand, and pulled him into a very deep, toe-curling kiss. 

Bucky expected… well… something different when Steve pulled away.

Steve looked _angry_. There was fire in his eyes and a set to his jaw. He gripped the gun more firmly and readied it.

"Well, screw this." He growled. "We’re gonna live."

—

They did live, and Bucky had never been more turned on.

Steve was a fucking war machine, holding the line like no other man ever had in the whole of human civilization, and then Natalia showed up with guns blazing and all three of them went berserker. Clint was there too, but Bucky had a low opinion of Clint’s hand-to-hand abilities on the best of days and given the fact that he was surrounded by Black Widow and Captain America, Bucky wasn’t willing to be impressed by Clint right then.

Bucky didn’t mention anything to Nat about what he’d said, but he thought she knew something had happened anyway. After the debriefing, which lasted approximately five hundred years and Bucky spent half of it imagining all the Hey-We-Survived Sex he was going to have with Steve and Nat, Nat told them to go on without her.

"I have some things to finish up here," she said. "We’ll catch up tomorrow. You two go on." She gave them both a kiss before they left, and they had to content themselves with that.

The car ride home was silent. A few times, Bucky considered saying something, but everything he thought of seemed either really stupid or really inappropriate.

The second they walked through the door, Steve grabbed Bucky and pushed him against the table, kissing him hard. Bucky grabbed at his armor and started to tear it off. They both scrambled into the bedroom, fingers moving from fumbling with clothing to running across naked skin and running through hair.

"You gonna fuck me, Captain America?" He asked with a smirk when Steve pushed him onto the bed. He leaned back and undid the snap on his pants, but his smirk faltered slightly when he saw the look on Steve’s face.

"No," Steve said. "I’m gonna make love to you." Bucky stared at him, and though he tried as hard as he could, he couldn’t keep himself from laughing.

“‘Make love’?” He cackled. “Steve, what are you, a sixteen year old girl?” Steve said nothing, and Bucky’s amusement faded when he looked at the expression on Steve’s face.

Steve wasn’t offended, or angry. He was looking at Bucky like he never wanted to stop looking, like Bucky was the center of the universe, the brightest thing in the room.

Bucky didn’t know how to respond to that look. He never did. He couldn’t remember what it was like to wear his heart on his sleeve, to let all his emotion show. Was he ever like that? What was that like?

Steve leaned over slowly and pressed his lips against Bucky’s pushing him down onto the bed with his own body. Bucky tried to make the kiss faster, dirtier, rougher, but Steve refused to take the bait. He kept it slow and gentle, and then his mouth started to roam, pressing kisses and licks against Bucky’s jawline, his throat, his collarbones, lower and lower.

It was all so gentle and careful, and Bucky was so conflicted. On the one hand, he wanted more. He wanted to be pounded into the mattress, he wanted to feel, to have so much going on with his body that he could forget how close he’d been to losing everything. But on the other hand, all the gentleness was leaving him with a big, stupid grin on his face. 

"Fuck me or make love, whatever, just get on with it," he laughed. "Before I go gray."

Steve hummed contentedly, tugged off Bucky’s pants, and dragged his tongue up the length of Bucky’s cock. His hands pressed down on Bucky’s hips, keeping him from snapping up, but not hard enough to leave bruises. Just pressure, not pain. Bucky bites down hard on his lower lip as Steve goes to work, slurping around his head and sucking it down, slow and _god fucking damn it, Steve_. Bucky whined, gripping the duvet with one hand and Steve’s hair with another.

"What do I have to do to make you go faster?" Bucky gasped after what felt like maybe an hour of sheer torture. Had Steve ever teased him this long? Bucky certainly didn’t think so and he didn’t know if he liked it or not. Steve drew away from his cock and grinned.

"Get on the bed," he said. "I’ll get some lube." Bucky pulled himself on the up the bed, watching as Steve went into the ensuite at far too leisurely a pace. As if he wasn’t as hard as Bucky. As if it wasn’t obvious.

When Steve came back, Bucky watched him coat his fingers generously with lube, panting slightly. Steve pressed a kiss against Bucky’s stomach as he slipped a finger in, still slow and careful. Bucky moaned as Steve worked his ass and dragged his tongue across Bucky’s stomach. Steve stretched him out slowly, with none of the quick scissoring that they indulged in on other days. Bucky was writhing and desperate, begging for another finger long before Steve decided a second or third was necessary.

"S-Steve," Bucky gasped. "Steve, please." He reached down and grabbed Steve’s face, forcing him to look up at him. " _Please._ ” Steve smiled up at him, his eyes bright and his hair in glorious disarray. Bucky felt his heart lurch a little at the sight.

Steve crawled back up to Bucky, grinning. He stared down at him with that expression that Bucky didn’t deserve, like Bucky was made of light, then leaned down and kissed him. It was a kiss that was all love, all warmth and affection rather than heat and lust. Bucky felt a noise escape, something high and sharp, and all the tension just dropped away. He wrapped his arm around Steve’s neck and held him close, felt one hand bury itself in his hair and the other one, the one with slicked up fingers, grip his hip. 

God, he was so hard, but it wasn’t the same as it usually was. It wasn’t all desperation and fire and bruising force, is a bone deep ache that Bucky thought he could live with for the rest of his life and never complain, it was so good. Steve’s hand moved across his body as they kissed, leaving wet streaks on his ribs and warmth pooling in his stomach. 

Steve pulled away, and Bucky actually sighed, and then felt stupid because he was a grown ass man and not some stupid, dreamy-eyed school girl, he was a weapon of mass destruction, he-

Steve smiled down at him, his hand cupping Bucky’s cheek, and fuck it, Bucky grinned back like a sap.

In short order, Steve’s cock was a slicked up as his fingers, and he pushed Bucky’s legs up, his knees pressed against his ribs. He pushed in with the same speed and care that he’d had since they’d gone into the bedroom, and Bucky didn’t even care anymore. Bucky just wanted Steve, more of Steve, and it didn’t matter of it was fucking or making love or whatever, however Steve wanted to do it. 

Steve’s thrusts were slow, rolling things, and they just battered on Bucky like the tide batters on cliffs, and Steve dragged his tongue along Bucky’s throat and kissed and sucked and Bucky’s mouth couldn’t decide whether it wanted to grin or gape or just gnaw itself bloody and raw. 

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve, wanting all the closeness he could get. Orgasm was building, but slowly, much more slowly than he remembered it building in a long time. It was fantastic. He rocked his hips to Steve’s thrusts and pressed kisses into his hair and babbled about _how good it felt, feels so good, Stevie, you always make it feel so good._

Steve nuzzled Bucky’s throat, nipping at his jaw and picking up his pace just a little, just enough for Bucky to _feel it_. 

Before he can stop it, Bucky imagines if they hadn’t survived. If they’d gotten dragged away from each other, drugged or knocked out or so injured that they couldn’t move. He imagines being taken back to cold rooms and strapped down to chairs and having so much pain rip through him that every memory he’d found again and made for himself was gone.

No more Steve. No more Nat. No more pizza parties and anniversaries. No more of Nat’s secret smiles or Steve’s dorky kisses. No more Sam dragging him to VA meetings. No more bickering with Tony while he fixed up his arm, or playing video games with Clint and Darcy, or learning about science from Jane and Thor, or meditating with Bruce. 

Something must have changed on his face because suddenly, Steve was kissing him, kissing his mouth, his nose, his forehead, his cheeks. 

_It’s okay, we’re home, we’re safe, I’ve got you._

And Bucky was not a child. Bucky didn’t need need to be coddled, or treated like he was made of glass, or even need constant confirmation of anything. But he sobbed with relief then, as Steve’s head curled through his hair and his lips pressed against his forehead, and he clung to Steve even harder than before and just let himself enjoy the fact that he was still human.

Steve reached between them to Bucky’s cock, where it was trapped between their stomachs, and started to stroke. Like everything else, it was gentle and slow, and Bucky keened from the build up, he was _so close._

Steve kissed him as he came, swallowing up the moans, and Bucky gripped Steve’s hair tightly. Steve still thrust into Bucky after the orgasm, and Bucky got that wonderful, raw feeling as Steve’s hips snapped automatically and he groaned against Bucky’s throat as he came.

He slumped on top of Bucky, and it was almost uncomfortable but Bucky was too fucked out to care, and anyway, if Steve rolled off of him, he’d pull out and Bucky wasn’t quite ready for that loss. Bucky smiled blissfully up at the ceiling and had to admit privately, to himself, and he’d never say it out loud, that making love had it’s advantages.

Steve pushed himself up onto his forearms and smiled lazily down at Bucky, but there was a question in his eyes, concern. Bucky reached up and touched Steve’s cheek, because he was still feeling sappy.

"I love you," he said. He felt like it was important to say then, without the fear of imminent capture looming over them. It wasn’t just a spur of the moment thing. He’d meant it. 

Steve’s smile widened, and he leaned down and pressed a kiss against Bucky’s forehead.

"I love you too, Bucky," he said. Then he rolled off, ignoring Bucky’s protesting whine. Bucky curled up next to him, and if things were wet and messy and getting a little cold on their stomachs, they ignored it with the skill of the truly unconcerned. 

They didn’t move except to jerk each other off throughout the night, Steve whispering sweet nothings and Bucky whispering increasingly filthy things. Bucky fell asleep curled up against Steve’s chest, hearing his heart beat.

He woke up. It was still nighttime, the streetlight was shining through the blinds on the wall. Slender arms were wrapped around his waist, a smaller body was pressed against his back. He smiled and pressed a hand against Natalia’s, weaving their fingers together after a spell before falling back into a wonderfully dreamless sleep.


End file.
